


Love Bite

by ginchy



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M, It Was A Dark And Stormy Night, Patrick looks like a vampire, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-13 21:53:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16480439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginchy/pseuds/ginchy
Summary: Smutty fic for Halloween, though not about Halloween.... It's a dark and stormy night and something is different about Patrick...





	Love Bite

Candlelight flickers as Shelagh sits at her dressing table, looking into the mirror. She removes her hair pins and begins to comb her hair, working the brush through the tresses until the wealth of it falls about her face. The children are away with Granny Parker for the evening, and it’s just as well. The night is stormy and thick with fog. With Patrick out on call and no children to attend to, Shelagh delights in the cozy silence of the flat. Reaching for a pot of cream, a gust of wind rattles the window, giving her pause. The storm is strengthening again. She stands and goes to the window, looking out into the foreboding night. A heavy mist hangs over the city, but the cool glass beckons to her, and she places her fingers against it as her breath leaves a vapor on the pane. The street is quiet and she starts to turn, when she sees the green MG park along the road. 

She hurries into a diaphanous dressing gown, certain that Patrick will enjoy the silky white shift underneath. He’s at the door by the time she pulls it open, beckoning him in from the rain. He stands on the doorstep, but doesn’t move any further. “Come in quickly! You’ll catch your death out there!” He looks at her for a moment and steps over the threshold. “Oh, Patrick,” she says, hand on the sodden material of his coat, “you’ve forgotten your hat.” His hair is damp and plastered to his head. “Let’s get you into some dry things!” She draws him further into the room. “The electricity has been out almost an hour. I checked on the Maternity Home and Nurse Crane has all in hand.” 

Patrick doesn’t answer. He hangs his coat from the back of a chair. 

Slightly unnerved by his silence, Shelagh presses her lips together before asking, “Would you like a bite to eat? I’ve kept it warm.”

“I… I am hungry,” he says after a beat, pinning her with a look as he begins to unbutton his sodden shirt. “Starved, actually.”

His look puts her off-balance. Her breath catches slightly. “Of course, dearest. I made a steak pie. You go and change your clothes. I’ll see to hanging them to dry as you have your dinner.” She bustles into the kitchen and leans over the sink. A slight brush of air is her only warning before he crowds in behind her. “Patrick,” she chides, as he sweeps her hair aside and runs a finger down her neck. She shivers. His flesh is cold against her skin. “Your hands are like ice!” She turns against him and gasps as she looks up into his eyes. They’re wide and wild as if he is seeking something. “Patrick?” His name comes out as barely a puff of air.

“Something’s happened, Shelagh.” His finger traces her throat again. She shivers once more, but not from the cold this time. 

“What is it?” She is mesmerized by his eyes, unable to look away from the shadows playing across his face. 

“I…” his eyes glance at her mouth before dropping to her neck. “I’ve changed.”

“Changed?” Placing her hand against his forehead she asks, “Are you ill? Your skin is still freezing and, oh, you’re extremely pale, Patrick! We need to get you out of these wet things.”

He doesn’t answer, taking her hand instead. He holds it gently before bringing it to his mouth. His lips graze her palm before he straightens, holding her hand between them. His thumb rubs against the phantom outlines of her long ago abrasion. “I never wanted to see you bleed,” he murmurs, using his nail now to trace the faint scar in the flickering candlelight. 

“It was only a graze, dearest. Long healed. What’s happened, Patrick? Have you caught a chill from the rain?” 

“It’s not the rain. It’s me. I’m...different,” he says, nuzzling her wrist. “I can feel your pulse. It’s racing.”

“I’m concerned. Whatever do you mean by this talk?” Taking her hand from his, she cups his jaw. “What’s happened to you?”

His eyes bore into hers. “I can’t--” He stops himself. “I feel young again, Shelagh. Younger and stronger than I have in some time.” 

Something in his gaze draws her in. He exudes an intensity that she longs to share, though it unbalances her. She begins to turn, to take up a plate. “You said that you were hungry, dear. Your dinner--”

He tangles his fingers into her hair to tilt her neck. Kissing her throbbing pulse point, he murmurs, “Leave it.”

She looks into his eyes again, feeling almost hypnotized by his dark gaze. She places her hand along his jaw, shocked at the cold that seeps through her palm. “What’s happened, Patrick?”

He turns his head to kiss her palm, cold lips sending a shudder through her body. “I…” he trails off as his lips reach her wrist, his tongue tracing the prominent vein until it faded into her skin. 

Shelagh gasps as he reaches the crook of her elbow, lips sliding against the skin in a suckling kiss. “Oh,” she murmurs, as he pulls her close, the dampness of his garments soaking through her thin shift. Her nipples harden against the silky fabric. She wants to scold him for not removing his wet clothing, but her breath catches as his lips move against her temple, feather-light in pressure. Taking his time, he moves his mouth down her cheek to the curve of her jaw. Her head lolls back as he continues toward her neck, but he pulls back, encouraging her to look once more into his eyes. 

“Shall we continue?” 

His raspy voice inflames her further and there is no hesitation, even as her consent is almost drowned out by a clap of thunder. She draws him into a kiss, her hands busy with removing his damp shirt. His chest is cool as she runs her fingers over it, trailing them to the button of his wet trousers. 

Patrick stills her hands, taking up a candle holder to lead her down the hall to their bedroom. The wind and the distorted shadows unfurl a sense of danger within her, and her stomach clenches in anticipation. 

The bedroom is darker than the kitchen, but the candle’s flame makes the room seem larger than it is. Patrick places the candle on her side-table. His deep set eyes are very dark in the low light as he turns back to her. Brushing the back of his hand against her cheek, he turns his hand and fans out his fingers, trailing them to the collar of her dressing gown. He pulls it away from her body, leaving it to flutter to the floor. His hand drops to the small of her back and he pulls her forward, flush against his body. 

“You’re so cold,” she whispers, looking again into his eyes. “Oh, Patrick, you should have warmed by now.” 

“You’re warm,” he whispers, sliding his hands under her gown to touch the naked curve of her bottom as his lips find her temple with small cool kisses. 

Whimpering as heat floods her core, Shelagh unbuttons his trousers. He releases her to let them fall. “Come to bed,” she murmurs, stepping backward. A bright shock of lightning illuminates the room as he passes the vanity mirror, but the room darkens again and her eyes are dazzled. She falls against a pillow and he moves over her, catching one arm and holding it over her head. She arches as he kisses her throat and chest, softly biting a nipple that peeks out of her disheveled gown. He releases her arm and pulls at the gown until she pushes him up so that she can remove it. Satisfied, he nuzzles between her breasts. 

“Your heart is still racing.” Working his way to her hips, he pulls at her knickers. 

“I hardly know -- oh!” She startles as he kneels beside the bed and pulls her until her legs drape over his shoulders. 

He nips at the skin behind her knee, pushing one leg up until he can trail his lips to her ankle. 

“I know what you’re doing...” she says, trailing off and flexing her foot as he moves to kiss the top of it. 

“Quite?” He makes his way back up her leg, fingers light against the skin of her thighs.

“You’ve… You’re seeking out each pulse point on my body, Patrick…Temple, facial, brachial, radial, tibial….”

“Femoral,” he growls, tilting her hips to snake his tongue between her thigh and vagina, tracing over the blue vein there. 

“Oh, oh, Patrick….” she squirms from the slide of his tongue, attempting to move his mouth to the throbbing ache he seemed to be ignoring.

His teeth scrape over her thigh and she tenses, only to go weightless in bliss as his tongue finally meets the sensitive, wet flesh of her vagina. She pants and moans her pleasure even as the thunder and wind rage outside of their flat. Patrick sharpens his tongue to meet her pressing need and she cries out in completion, clutching his head between her heated thighs. 

Kissing the soft skin that imprisons him, Patrick unwraps her legs and encourages her into the bed, spooning behind her and nudging her with his erection. He pushes her hair away to kiss the base of her neck as he enters her from behind, holding her thigh as her foot crosses over his knee. He groans as she tightens around him, and he gasps against her sweaty skin. “Shelagh,” he grinds out, breathless as he keeps up a rhythm, “I want….” he trails off, sucking at her neck.

“Dearest?” Tiny aftershocks of pleasure keep her gasping for breath. She takes his hand as it moves from her thigh to her breast. “What do you want?”

“All of you,” he groans just before he orgasms, sinking his teeth into Shelagh’s neck.

Shelagh chokes on a cry as the sting of the bite jolts her into another shuddering spasm of pleasure. 

Patrick sags against her as they gasp for breath. After a moment he breaks their silence. “You quite liked this fantasy, Shelagh.”

Shelagh’s cheeks begin to burn. “Don’t tease, Patrick.” 

“I would never,” he murmurs, kissing her cheek. 

“Should I be asking just how large your bite is on my neck?”

Tilting her head, Patrick studies the mark. “Nothing more than an average love-bite, my love.”

Bringing her hand to the tender skin, Shelagh turns in Patrick’s embrace. “It was a mite difficult to play vampire when you forgot your fangs, Patrick!”

“I didn’t forget them!” He scrambles up from the bed and roots around in his discarded clothing. 

Shelagh turns on the bedside lamp, leaning forward to blow out the candle. 

Patrick’s brow creases. “I thought perhaps the electricity being out was part of the fantasy. The storm and my forgotten umbrella certainly didn’t hurt.” He laughs before climbing back into Shelagh’s arms. “The fangs looked ridiculous, Shelagh. Hardly suitable for a seduction.” He pops them into his mouth. “Shee?”

Shelagh’s eyes widen and she starts to giggle at the sight of the undersized plastic fangs in her husband’s mouth. “You were right not to use them,” she concedes, pulling them from his mouth.

“Some vampire,” he says, cupping her hip. “No fangs, no cape, no widow’s peak…”

Giggling, Shelagh moves closer. “Do you mean to say that you aren’t allergic to garlic or sunlight?”

“I can even view my reflection in a mirror,” he rejoins with a crooked grin.

“Your ties would make one think otherwise, dearest.”

“Mrs. Turner!” Patrick laughs. “You chose to love the man, atrocious ties, and all.” He settles onto his back, still grinning. “I’m not complaining, but I’m still confused. A vampire?”

Shelagh leans against his chest, looking down at him. “The thought came to me from you, dearest. You’re often out all night, frequently come home covered in blood, there was never any sun in your old surgery...” 

“There is now!”

“And yet you’re still quite pale, dear. You’ve that velvet waistcoat--”

“You bought that for me!”

“--and you have a habit of dramatically swishing your coat as you walk, almost as if it were a cape.”

“I do not--” suddenly his fingers were at her sides, tickling and tormenting her as she giggled helplessly. “Next you’ll be telling me that I need a pet bat and a coffin to sleep in!”

Shelagh pulls away from his teasing fingers, grinning triumphantly as she finds the forgotten plastic fangs tangled in the sheets. Hiding her prize in her hand, she snuggles up to Patrick and kisses shoulder. “There’s quite a long history between medicine and vampirism,” she muses, seeking to distract. 

“Well, quite,” he answers, closing his eyes. “The unknown will always stoke fear. Vampirism was linked to conditions such as rabies, porphyria--”

“Tuberculosis.”

“Oh, my darling.” He shifts in the bed to hold her in his arms, kissing her forehead. 

She sighs into his embrace, sated. “You’ve warmed,” she says, snuggling into his heat. 

Nuzzling his nose against her cheek, he smiles. “Would you still love me if I were always cold? And had fangs?”

Her cheeks burn. “I would. The idea of succumbing to your need was rather… emboldening.”

Patrick grins. “Yes, you were a very bold girl tonight, my love.”

“Quite,” she agrees, kissing his chin. His eyes close as he relaxes against her. Sneaking the plastic teeth into her mouth, Shelagh leans forward, nipping his neck.

“Shelagh!” 

She grins at him with the vampire fangs for a moment before taking them out with a giggle. Tossing them onto the bedside table, she looks at him, brow furrowed in concentration. 

“What is it?”

“Oh,” she says, trailing a finger over the bite at his neck. “I was just thinking that we played out my fantasy but what about yours?”

“My fantasy is you wanting to play out your fantasies with me.” 

“Oh, Patrick.” Shelagh’s heart pounds and she kisses him softly. She smiles as a wicked thought enters her mind and she begins to trace her fingers over his chest and down past his stomach. “My fantasy can be yours. What is it that vampires say? Perhaps we’ll modify it slightly.” Her cheeks are bright red as she reaches her target, ducking her head with another smile. Lowering her voice and affecting her best vampire accent she teases, “I vant to suck your--”

-end

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a magazine cover in which Stephen McGann looks, to me, like a vampire. Any reason for smut, right?? Thanks to Teacups, Kagu, and Birdie for listening to me yammering over this and for all their invaluable assistance!! Happy Halloween!! <3


End file.
